


Louder than Words

by Dexterous_Sinistrous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Little Mermaid, Alternate Universe - Mermaids, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Good Peter Hale, Human Derek, M/M, Mermaid Lydia, Merman Stiles, Sea Witch Jennifer, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 13:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12389247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/pseuds/Dexterous_Sinistrous
Summary: “You’re awake,” Stiles stated as he looked down at Derek, his head moving to block the sun from Derek’s eyes. The tips of his fins barely touched the water now.“You’re real,” Derek uttered in fascination, his voice hoarse and weakened from the night’s events.Stiles brightly smiled at Derek.





	Louder than Words

**Author's Note:**

> This was sitting in my folder ... for months. And I just finished the last few pages. It's the best it is going to get, and I wanted to share something. I've felt useless, and rather down as of late, so I decided to try and be productive.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one.

_“A month. You have until the moon begins to wane from her full form. If you can get your darling prince to fall in love with you, you’ll remain human—permanently. If not, well … then you belong to me, Stiles,” the Sea Witch smiled at Stiles, her scarred form moving throughout the cavern with ease._

_Stiles easily turned to follow her, his eyes watching her for a sign that she was going to attack him. “And Lydia?”_

_The Sea Witch laughed. “Lydia can find her own love to keep her legs. Now, let’s discuss the subject of payment.”_

_Stiles pursed his lips as he considered the woman’s words. “I have a number of gems—”_

_“No, no,” the Sea Witch curtly stated in a tut-tutting tone. “I want something far more precious, Stiles. What I want from you is … your voice.”_

_Stiles’ eyes widened in surprise. “My voice? Why?”_

_“The voice is a lovely thing to own. And I could do so much with a pure one like yours.”_

_“How can I trust you?” Stiles demanded._

_“I’m wounded that you don’t believe me, young prince,” the Sea Witch stated in false hurt. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t lie. I don’t have to, Stiles. If people want something enough, they’ll pay any price.” She settled at the bottom of the cavern next to Stiles, her expression growing dark. “I’m a very busy woman, and I haven’t got all day, dear.” She carefully looked over Stiles, waiting to see his reaction. “So make your choice, prince,” every word she spoke was punctuated with force._

_Stiles’ hand grabbed the boned quill, hesitating before quickly scribbling his signature across the scroll._

_The Sea Witch smiled as she took the scroll back, a laugh escaping her throat before she started to chant in another language, the cauldron reacting to her spell._

_A heat burned Stiles’ throat, the glow of the Sea Witch’s magic seeping out of the cauldron and engulfing Stiles in it._

_“Stiles, don’t!” Lydia yelled as she quickly swam into the cavern. She knew she was too late when she saw the way Stiles writhed in pain. She saw the glow of the Sea Witch’s magic leave Stiles’ throat, the sound of Stiles’ singing echoing in the orb as it passed by Lydia to be absorbed by the small shell held by the Sea Witch. “Stop!” She screamed at the Sea Witch, swimming directly at the she-creature when the magic hit Lydia full force. Her body was on fire, engulfed in the light of the Sea Witch’s magic. She could only see Stiles’ body writhing in pain as his tail suddenly split in two, her own screams being the only sound to hear throughout the cavern before the Sea Witch started to laugh once more._

~*~

"Why would you do this, Stiles?" Lydia’s voice was shaking as she tried to inspect the wounds along Stiles’ legs. “This was foolish, so foolish,” she lamented as she ripped at the ragged sails that were abandoned in the cove. She tied the material around Stiles’ bloody legs, hoping to stop the bleeding. She didn’t understand why Stiles’ legs were cut up—why he had large cuts running along the inside of his legs when hers were flawless.

Stiles grabbed Lydia’s shoulders, getting her to look at him. He offered her a sad smile, not even trying to speak. He knew his voice wouldn’t be there to even try.

Lydia shook her head. “I’m going to find help,” she stated as she precariously tied the larger part of the sail that was still intact around her body. She managed to cover herself with a little modesty. “I’ll run as fast as I can,” she explained to Stiles. “Just— just stay here, out of trouble. Please, be safe.”

Stiles nodded in acceptance, remaining unmoving on his rock as he watched Lydia stumble against the sand. He looked down at his legs as Lydia disappeared around the bend of rock.

Stiles’ legs were long and gangly, like his arms. They weren’t as long as his tail had been, but they were long for human proportion.

Stiles wondered if his legs were longer than Derek’s. He smiled to himself, thinking about measuring out on the sand beside Derek now that he was human.

A significant amount of time passed before Stiles started to worry his bottom lip. He looked down at his legs as they dangled off the rock he was perched upon. He frowned, eyebrows furrowing, when he saw the blood drip down off his toes and into the sand.

The makeshift bandages Lydia had made were bled through, his cuts too deep to be helped by fast care.

Stiles opened his mouth to call out for help, only to have a pitiful noise crack from his throat before nothing. He tried again, only to hear nothing once more. He released a heavy breath, startling when he felt the soft touch of his exhale caressing his skin. He looked down at his arm, inspecting the hair he found there, only to gently blow air against it. He smiled to himself, finding the sensation amusing.

A loud bark startled Stiles.

A large black dog came running down to the rock Stiles was perched on, barking happily when it saw Stiles. It ran up to place its front paws high up on the rock to allow it access to Stiles. It happily barked at Stiles, trying to press its nose against him.

Stiles tried to scurry back, almost losing his balance in his attempt. He flailed his arm out at the dog, hoping it would take pity and leave him be. He startled when the animal licked his hand. His features soured when he realized his hand was covered in slick saliva now. He looked at the dog, trying to shoo it away when he recognized it.

The dog was Derek’s—the one Derek had accompanying him along the shoreline so often as he walked in solitude.

Stiles knew the dog had seen him a handful of times, always being happily barked at upon discovery.

“Max!” A masculine voice called out, causing the dog to turn and look back to where it came from. “Max, where are you?” The voice demanded.

The dog jumped down from the rock, prancing happily in the sand as it started to bark incessantly.

A young man appeared as he came rushing around the corner, following after Max’s barks. “There you are,” he tiredly said when he saw him. He halted when he saw that Max was not alone, discovering a very naked Stiles perched up on the rock.

Stiles’ smile was welcoming, extreme happiness bubbling up in his chest when he realized it was Derek who found him.

“I … I’m sorry if my dog … startled you?” Derek offered, still slightly confused as to why the young man was naked.

Stiles shook his head, a smile across his face. He moved towards Derek when he came closer, his body leaning over the edge of the rock.

“Please don’t think I’m strange or out of line, but … you … well, you look familiar,” Derek started as he averted his eyes from Stiles’ naked body. He snuck a look at Stiles’ face to judge his response.

Stiles happily nodded.

“Have we met?” Derek shyly asked.

Stiles’ entire body vibrated with excitement as he expressively nodded, practically falling off the rock.

“What’s your name?” Derek hopefully asked.

Stiles tried to say his name, only to have a sharp noise crack from his throat. He reached a hand up to his throat, gently coaxing away the pain he felt. He sorrowfully looked up at Derek, his eyebrows furrowed. He patted his throat, trying to get Derek to understand his inability to speak.

“Oh,” Derek softly sighed. “You can’t talk, can you?” He sadly asked.

Stiles frowned, looking down at the rock. He released a deep breath, feeling it brush against his arm once more. He perked up, excitedly gesturing towards his arm to try and get Derek’s attention.

Derek startled, moving closer to try and keep Stiles from falling as he watched him wildly gesture. “Are you hurt? What is it?”

Stiles shook his head, gesturing towards his throat. He had to tell him that something was still there—something was coming out of his mouth that gave him hope that he’d speak again. He gestured as if something was flowing through his throat.

“You’re going to throw up?” Derek quizzically asked.

Stiles shook his head in aggravation. If he could just get Derek to understand. He moved too much, losing his balance and falling off the rock as he tried to stand.

“Careful!” Derek yelled as he caught Stiles, preventing him from falling into the sand. He turned Stiles in his arms, looking down in the boy’s eyes. His chest felt light, as if a spark of familiarity had stolen away his breath. Those eyes—he knew those eyes. “Just, be careful,” he softly stated, helping Stiles to stand up.

Stiles faintly nodded, clutching to Derek’s shirt as he tried to keep himself from falling over.

“Here,” Derek started, gesturing for Stiles to lean against the rock for a second.

Stiles understood what Derek meant, reluctantly releasing his hold on Derek to lean his support against the rock. He looked at Derek, watching him carefully as Max pranced excited beside them.

Derek loosened the ties of his shirt, easily untucking the loose material from his trousers. He pulled the shirt up over his head, turning to offer the clothing to Stiles.

Stiles looked at the material, realizing that Derek was offering his shirt to him. He realized that perhaps being nude was not the best way to introduce himself to the new world around him. He recalled the way Lydia had covered herself, knowing that she knew more about how to act in this world. He took the shirt from Derek, easily pulling it over his head.

The material was loose and billowed around Stiles since he lacked anything to tuck the shirt into. Derek reached over to tighten the ties around Stiles’ chest in order to guarantee that it wouldn’t fall off him.

Stiles closely watched Derek’s face as he allowed him to tie the shirt’s laces. He reached a hand up, faintly touching Derek’s beard.

Derek looked up in surprise, looking at Stiles. He snuck a glance at Stiles’ hand before looking back up at Stiles. He faintly smiled when he saw the grin pulling across Stiles’ face. “I take it that you like my beard?”

Stiles looked at Derek, slightly embarrassed when he realized that it probably wasn’t acceptable for him to just touch Derek without his permission. He smiled as he pet his fingertips through Derek’s beard one last time.

“We should get some help,” Derek offered, still mesmerized by Stiles’ everything.

Stiles nodded, allowing his hand to fall from Derek’s face. He leaned into Derek when he put an arm around his waist in order to help him walk. He took his steps with patience, taking his time to get used to walking on his legs. He smiled as he felt the sand squishing between his toes.

“Stiles!” Lydia’s voice called out from around the rocks. “Stiles, I found—” She halted her steps when she rounded the corner to see Derek with his arm around Stiles, helping him to walk. “Get away from him!” She angrily snapped as she ran up to them, ready to rip Stiles out of Derek’s grasp.

Stiles’ hands waved furiously at Lydia, almost falling away from Derek as he lost his balance. He didn’t want Lydia to ruin this—Derek found him, and was going to keep him by his side. It worked out better than he could have hoped, and he didn’t want Lydia to rip them apart.

“I’m just trying to help him,” Derek answered, aware of Lydia’s anger towards him.

Stiles nodded in agreement with Derek.

“With respect, we don’t know you,” Lydia stated as she moved to take Stiles’ arm. “I’ve found a nice woman in town—she was shocked by my lack of clothes,” she explained to Stiles. “She’s offered to help us.”

Stiles shook his head, grabbing ahold of Derek’s hand. His eyes pleaded with Lydia, wishing for her to understand.

Lydia’s features soured. “Stiles—”

“Is that his name?” Derek asked, looking at Stiles once more.

Stiles looked at Derek, hesitating before nodding.

Derek’s features saddened some. “It’s a … unique name,” he offered, knowing that it sounded nothing like the name he heard that day—‘Mischief.’

Stiles frowned.

“Lydia?” A voice called, a young woman running along the trail that lead up to them. “You should really put on this coat—” The young woman halted when she saw them all. “Derek?”

“Cora,” Derek answered.

Stiles whipped his head around to look at Cora. He knew she was Derek’s sister, recalling all the times she would follow Derek down to the beach to speak with him in private.

“You know each other,” Lydia stated as she allowed Cora to place the coat over her shoulders, almost not seeing the point in covering her nudity.

“He’s my brother,” Cora answered. “And I see he found your brother.”

Stiles smiled at Lydia, knowing that now they were definitely going to stay with the Hales.

~*~

"Explain to me again what happened?" Peter asked when Lydia finished her story.

“Peter, leave the girl alone,” Talia sighed as she turned to look at Derek. She remained silent as she watched Derek.

Derek was paying attention to Stiles, looking at where he was wildly gesturing towards his plate and utensils. He smiled as he picked up the fork and knife to show him in gestures what to do with the utensils. He fondly watched Stiles mimic him.

Stiles grabbed at Derek’s hand, inspecting the way he held the utensils. He looked at Derek, smiling when he saw that Derek was watching him.

“You seem rather fond,” Peter commented.

Derek looked over at Peter, glaring at him as he let Stiles take the fork from his hand.

“He’s adorable,” Peter smirked behind his glass.

“Shut up, Peter,” Derek partially growled under his breath.

“Derek,” Talia’s voice partially warned him.

“So, a shipwreck washed you ashore, and Stiles lost his voice,” Samuel stated as he observed the way Lydia held herself. “That’s extraordinary,” he commented, amazed that the two guests at their table managed to survive such a storm.

“What’s extraordinary is that they managed to come from across the sea,” Peter stated. “That voyage is rough and unforgiving. Most ships lose their whole contents—people included.”

“Don’t frighten them,” Talia commented.

“I’m not,” Peter countered. “I’m just explaining to them how lucky they are. Even if Stiles has lost his voice, thanks to the trauma.”

Stiles loudly sneezed when he inhaled some of the pepper too quickly, his nose itching. He wiped at his nose, scrunching it up as he tried to get the tingling sensation to dissipate.

“He’s delightful,” Peter deadpanned, turning a charming smile to Derek when his nephew glowered at him.

Stiles wiped at his nose, looking at Peter before turning to look at Derek.

“Please, ignore Peter,” Talia spoke to both Stiles and Lydia.

~*~

Stiles smiled as he walked beside Derek. He hung onto every word Derek said, intrigued by the prince’s new display of interest.

It had been a struggle to get Derek to speak to him—complicated when Stiles realized he’d be unable to tell Derek exactly how he felt. Stiles learned to speak through moving his hands wildly, animated movements becoming part of their exchange.

Lydia smiled to herself as she watched Derek and Stiles disappear into the maze, happy that Stiles was finally receiving a response from Derek. She initially felt guilty when she realized that her relationship with Cora was prospering as Stiles remained isolated on the sidelines. She had seen the way Stiles’ eyes longingly lingered on Derek, a sad smile being the only emotion he projected whenever Derek looked at him.

Something changed in recent days, Derek opening up to Stiles and finding a sparking interest brewing between them. Anyone who caught a glimpse of the way the two men acted could easily argue that a kindling of romance was forming.

Stiles had been scared when Peter pulled him aside one day.

“I’m curious about your intentions with my nephew,” Peter stated as Stiles stared up at him with a confused look.

Stiles hesitated before shaking his head, not understanding what Peter meant.

“Are you toying with him?” Peter asked. “Do you just want what his title could give you?”

Stiles quickly shook his head. He tried to find his notepad before realizing that he had left it in his rooms. He sighed, trying to think of a way to make Peter understand.

“You’re odd for a royal,” Peter commented as he took a step back from Stiles. “That being said, your sister acts more like the one groomed for inheriting a throne.”

Stiles frowned. He knew he was clumsy and inquisitive—a mixture that often times resulted in his embarrassing misstep. He wished he could correct himself, knowing that Lydia was always more regal than he could ever be, despite the fact that he was the royal one.

“I suppose my nephew has a strange taste in those he intends to court, though,” Peter added.

Stiles looked up at Peter, wondering what he meant. He waved his hand to gain Peter’s attention. He gestured towards himself, tapping his fingertips over his heart. He mouthed Derek’s name at Peter before tapping over his heart again.

“You love him, don’t you?” Peter softly asked.

Stiles’ cheeks heated with a blush before he looked away. He nodded to confirm Peter’s observation.

Peter smiled at that. “I’m glad.”

~*~

Lydia giggled at Stiles’ excited gesturing, ignoring him when he tried to shush her. She continued to brush through her hair, looking over at the pad of paper Stiles used to write down what he and Derek had done earlier.

“He brought you to the town village,” Lydia commented with a smile.

Stiles nodded, a smile still blazoned on his face as he hurriedly scribbled more.

_We danced. Derek didn’t mind my clumsiness._

“I’m sure he enjoyed dancing with you,” Lydia replied, gently touching Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles looked up at Lydia, smiling back at her.

~*~

“I’m sorry,” Talia solemnly stated.

“That’s not fair!” Cora argued. “We’re your children before we’re pawns on your chessboard.”

“We never saw you as that,” Samuel answered, taking solidarity with Talia.

“You’d rather have one of us be unhappy?” Cora argued, her distress evident.

Derek was silent as he observed his parents. He knew they were both bothered by such a stance, but it was expected—no one would accept two of the royal children marrying two royals from the same kingdom. There would be no political advantage to solidifying two connections to the same kingdom.

“It’s not fair,” Cora stated once more in anger.

“I’ll inform Stiles,” Derek finally stated, his appearance calm as he moved to stand. He didn’t bother looking at Cora, knowing she would call his bluff and yell at him for being an idiot.

“Derek?” Talia questioned, surprised by Cora’s sudden silence.

“Cora and Lydia have reached a desired point in their courtship,” Derek explained, his heart hammering in his chest as he convinced himself that it wasn’t breaking. “I haven’t mentioned a courtship to Stiles,” he continued, pressing on through his rationalization that it was for the best. “We’ve been getting closer, however, informing him now that nothing but friendship will come from our relationship will be for the best.”

Cora stared at Derek in disbelief. “You’ll break his heart,” she argued.

“Stiles has shown little interest in me, besides companionship,” Derek replied, turning to leave the room.

“Derek—” Cora made an aborted move to stop him from leaving, halting herself when he glared at her.

“Unless you would prefer to break your courtship with Lydia and hope for the best, leave it be,” Derek lowly stated, leaving his parents and sister behind.

~*~

Stiles hurriedly fixed his hair before pulling at the laced cuffs of his sleeves once more. He was certain he buttoned and placed everything as Cora had explained to him his first days at the Hale palace. He wanted to look his best, his stomach tumbling with joy as he thought about Derek’s request.

Derek and Stiles took longer to get to this point, but Stiles knew there was something developing between them. He had hoped that Derek would be the one to first broach the subject, knowing he’d somehow miscommunicate his feelings.

Stiles drew in a deep breath, releasing it as he stared at himself in the mirror. He knew Derek would be able to tell he dressed up for the occasion, his clothes finer than the ones he normally wore—thanks, in part, to Erica’s insistence that he needed nicer clothes to convey interest.

“You look lovely,” Lydia commented as she leaned against the doorway connecting their rooms. She smiled when Stiles looked up at her reflection in the mirror.

Stiles smiled back, moving to grab his pad of paper. He scribbled a few words on it before excitedly handing her the entire pad.

_Meeting Derek in the gardens. He said it was important._

Stiles nervously fiddled with his buttons as Lydia read.

Lydia smiled, looking up at Stiles. “I’m happy for you,” she answered, hugging Stiles tightly. “For us both.”

~*~

Stiles fidgeted as he awaited Derek in the gardens. He played with the lace cuff of his shirt, curious what Derek wished to talk about. He remembered the sea witch’s words, knowing that he had until the next full moon.

Stiles startled with excitement when Derek came into view. He rose from his spot on the bench, moving to meet Derek. He smiled at him, shaking his head no when Derek asked if he had kept him waiting long.

“I’m glad you agreed to meet with me,” Derek started as he walked beside Stiles. He kept a slow pace, his hands folded behind his back as he tried to think of the right words. “I’ve had … fun, these passed few days.”

Stiles smiled at that, gently touching Derek’s arm to gain his attention. He gestured to himself, nodding gleefully.

A sad smile pulled at Derek’s lips as he observed Stiles. “Your friendship means a great deal to me, Stiles.”

Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed, not understanding Derek’s frown. He reached his hands up, pressing his fingertips into the dimples of Derek’s cheeks, pushing them until Derek’s lips moved into a smile.

Derek released a happy laugh, reaching his hands up to hold onto Stiles’. “It’s taken me a while before I could allow myself to laugh this easily,” he offered, still not letting go of his hold on Stiles. “And I have you to thank for that, Stiles.”

Stiles smiled, looking down at the way Derek’s hands held his own—the way his fingers massaged and traced the definition of his tendons. How Stiles wished he could speak, subconsciously counting the trinkets and possessions he collected over the years with the full knowledge that he’d gladly trade them all away if it meant he could _tell_ Derek how he felt.

“Cora is going to publicly ask Lydia to continue their courtship tonight at the ball,” Derek pressed, his grip loosening some. “And I think we both know how she will respond.”

Stiles smiled, releasing a pleased huff of air—the one noise he could still make. He nodded with joy, hopeful that Lydia would receive her happily ever after. He waited for Derek to continue, watching him.

“And I think, in these times, your friendship will continue to mean a great deal to me,” Derek continued, slowly allowing his grip to loosen from Stiles. He dropped his hands to his sides, closing his eyes as he calmed his heart, determined to continue as planned. “With my sister entering into an official engagement, it leaves me as the last Hale available to wed,” he started, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “I need you to understand that, so that you know that my next words hold a considerable amount of weight.”

Stiles’ heart was beating wildly in his chest, overly excited to hear Derek’s next words. He could tell Derek was nervous, evident in the way he refused to keep eye contact, the subtle ringing of his hands before hiding them behind his back. Stiles faintly smiled, finding it endearing that Derek felt a similar nervousness that he did. He took pity on Derek, acting rashly as he leaned forward to press a gentle but quick kiss to Derek’s lips.

Derek was startled into silence, opening his eyes to look at Stiles. He didn’t know how to respond, the feeling of Stiles’ kiss nothing more than a fresh tingling sensation on his lips. He reached his hands forward, gripping onto Stiles’ biceps to steady himself. “Stiles—”

Stiles misunderstood Derek’s touch, interpreting it as a welcomed gesture—he mistook his kiss for being wanted. He foolishly moved to kiss Derek again. His lips barely grazing Derek’s before he was harshly shoved back. He stumbled some, his balance on legs not as good as Lydia’s had become. He quizzically stared at Derek, uncertain why he had been pushed away.

“I am the last Hale eligible to wed,” Derek gruffly stated, making sure the distance between them was adequate. “I thought you’d understand that well enough.”

Stiles opened his mouth to protest, cursing the silence that followed his attempts. He reached for his pocket, producing the pad of paper and pencil he almost forgot in his room that morning. He scratched out the words on paper, trying to convey his uncertainty. He held the paper out for Derek to read, his hand trembling as he waited for the inevitable.

_I don’t understand. Why did you ask me here?_

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed as he read the words. He looked up at Stiles, steeling his stony expression as he ignored the hurt welling up in his own chest. “To inform you that your fixation on me has to end.”

Stiles withdrew his hand from Derek, as if he had been bitten. He flipped to the next blank page of the booklet, hurriedly writing. His chest hurt, as if he was drowning on air—as if he had been beached. He pleadingly held the page out to Derek again.

_Our feelings are mutual._

Derek looked away from the page, glaring a hole into the nearest patch of daffodils. “I’ve felt nothing but friendship for you,” he calmly lied. “Out of courtesy to you and your sister, I paid you the respects of not humiliating you. But when Lydia and Cora wed, we will be forced to see each other more. I wanted to make sure you knew the truth.”

Stiles hurriedly flipped to the next page, a trembling hand writing out his terrified thoughts. He wanted to rub his sleeve at his eyes, cursing the tears that blurred his vision. He held the booklet out to Derek.

_Why did you lie?_

“I didn’t lie about anything,” Derek angrily huffed, taking a step away from Stiles. “We never spoke of anything even resembling a courting.”

Stiles tried to quickly write down his next words, his whole body shaking.

“You can’t even speak,” Derek snapped.

Stiles partially jumped at the reprimand in Derek’s voice, looking up at Derek in slight shock as his writing stopped. He had never heard Derek raise his voice, not even when he had stepped on Derek’s feet more than once the other day.

“How could I be expected to have a spouse like you?” Derek unsteadily demanded. “I’ll never marry you, Stiles.”

Stiles allowed the booklet to drop from his hand, looking away from Derek. He stumbled backwards at the burning in his chest—the familiar feeling of his lungs drying out. He tried to bite back his tears, a sharp, unfamiliar sound cracking from his throat. It was a sound he never heard before, one that scared him to think that out of all the noises he could make, this sound was the most audible. Determined not to allow Derek to hear such wretched sounds, he fled. His feet hurt as he ran, his skin feeling dry and taunt—as if it was cracking from exposure. His lungs burned as he hurried through the small labyrinth of bushes, hating himself for thinking that he deserved a happily ever after.

Derek angrily wiped his own tears away on the sleeve of his shirt, looking down at the ground as if it personally offended him—as if it was the one that just broke Stiles’ heart. He hesitated before picking up the booklet, knowing he should return it to at least Lydia if Stiles did not wish to see him. He froze when he saw what Stiles hadn’t finished writing.

_But I love y_

Derek sat down on the nearby bench, placing his head in his hands as he focused on his breathing. He was glad to be alone, allowing himself the privacy to cry unbothered by his parents and sisters.

~*~

Stiles found his way down to the shoreline, clambering up on the rocks where he and Lydia had encountered the Hales. He perched himself up on the highest rock, pulling his legs up to his chest. He rested his chin on top of his knees, eyes looking out over the ocean. His eyes lingering on the far out stretch of rocks he once played along with Lydia. He remembered sitting beneath the curved rock, hidden underneath the shadows as he watched Derek’s uncle retrieve him after his rescue. His heart was beating wildly when Derek had turned to look back his way, almost staring directly at him without knowing.

Stiles remembered the first time he knew he began to love Derek—it was the night of the ship fire. He was perched on one of the lifeboats, peering in through a gap in the wood around one of the cannons. He watched Derek playfully dance along with his dog, a faint smile pulling across his lips—it was nice to see Derek smiling. He had rested his head against his hands as he watched Derek. He knew he had been foolish, constantly trying to get closer to the young looking man.

~*~

Stiles had first laid eyes on Derek nearly a year ago. He watched him from the safety of the collection of rocks near the reef. He sat, with his tail in the water, watching as the young man took leisurely walks along the shoreline. He listened to him playing the flute, marveling at the music Derek made. He smiled and even laughed at the playfulness of Derek’s sisters when they would join him on his walks. He had overheard Derek’s uncle, Peter, speaking to him one day about traveling the seas, to a foreign land to meet with a princess.

Stiles was as displeased as Derek at hearing the news. He didn’t know if Derek would ever return, should he marry this foreign princess. Stiles had taken to keeping away from the reef after that, trying to pretend that his mind wasn’t burning with questions about Derek’s return. He wondered if he’d ever get a chance to meet him face to face.

Stiles was foolishly swimming close to the shore, returning the flute after diving down to find it, when he heard someone call out to him. His fin was still covered by the water, but his body was stretching out to place the flute into the sand. He startled, turning his body to dive back into the water.

“Wait,” a voice called out, sounding oddly familiar to Stiles.

Stiles turned to look, noticing Derek immediately. He flushed, pushing his body further into the water.

“What are you … what are you doing here?” Derek asked as he came to a stop by the shoreline, quizzically staring at the boy floating in the water.

“I … I found that,” Stiles offered, gesturing towards the flute, curious if Derek’s calmness meant that he hadn’t seen Stiles’ tail.

Derek looked down at the flute, bending slightly to pick it up. “I thought Cora threw this away,” he softly stated, as if he hadn’t been searching for the flute the past few days, anxiety building for his trip across seas as he searched for something precious to ground him.

“It was stuck in the reef,” Stiles offered, his body slowly coming closer to Derek. He immediately swam back some when his tail dragged through the sand, a haunting reminder that he couldn’t get much closer.

“You found it,” Derek plainly stated, looking up at Stiles curiously.

“I enjoy swimming,” Stiles offered.

“I know,” Derek answered. A soft blush burned his cheeks as he stumbled over his next words. “I mean, you’re in the water often—you haven’t come out of the water to even speak to me, considering all things.”

“Often?” Stiles pressed, partially confused by Derek’s words.

“I’ve seen you,” Derek replied, gesturing towards the rocks past the reef. “You don’t usually come closer—I figured you were searching for something.”

Stiles eyes widened. “You’ve seen me before today?”

“You’re not exactly discreet,” Derek countered.

Stiles opened his mouth to retort, realizing that Derek was right—he wasn’t as discreet as Lydia told him to be. He startled when he heard one of Derek’s sisters calling out for him. He took his opportunity to dive under the water when Derek turned to look at the owner of the voice.

“Listen, why don’t you—” Derek started, only to be disappointed when he looked back to the water, discovering the boy to be gone. “Just disappear on me when I try to ask you to stay,” he softly finished with a sigh of aggravation.

“Derek,” Laura called once more. “Peter said it’s time to leave.”

Stiles remained hidden behind his rock until he was confident that Derek had left with Laura. He released a breath, a small giddiness overwhelming him when he realized that he actually _talked_ to Derek for a change.

That all lead to the fateful night of the ship fire, when Stiles managed to track the ship coming home. He was glad to discover that Derek was on board the ship with the others—no foreign princess in sight.

Stiles couldn’t understand his need to save Derek from drowning. He felt a fondness for the prince, even when the storm threatened to decimate everything in the water, even Stiles.

Even in the safety of the lifeboat, Derek had climbed back onto the burning ship to save his uncle from the fire. Stiles watched as Derek almost died saving his uncle. In all the disarray of the storm, Derek had become entangled with rope from one of the cannons.

Stiles didn’t hesitate in swimming to the sinking ship when he realized that Derek was still attached to it, the vessel to become the prince’s watery grave should no one help. He didn’t care how much Derek saw or remembered, using his sharpened nails to dig into the rope, slicing at the material until it gave way. He knew Derek saw his tail—that the prince would know his secret now.

Stiles held Derek close to his chest, keeping Derek’s head above the water. He knew how fragile humans were when it came to the water, imagining that the fear of drowning was similar to his own fear of drying out. He winced when his tail grazed along the reef. He pushed harder to get to the shoreline that he knew was close. His shoulder scraped along the reef as he turned to keep Derek above water.

It was difficult getting Derek onto a secure spot on the beach. Stiles struggled with pushing Derek as far up the sand as possible to guarantee that the waves wouldn’t take him away. He pulled himself out of the water, shimmying his body across the sand. He reached for Derek’s arms, pulling as hard as he could to drag the young prince up the rest of the way to safety. He collapsed against Derek’s chest, exhausted from fighting against the strong current of the storm with the weight of Derek’s unconscious body in his arms. He let himself catch his breath, his head resting on Derek’s chest. He heard the soft thumping sound in Derek’s chest, his head rising and falling to the movement of Derek breathing.

Stiles smiled as he moved his body, the tips of his fins barely touching the water. He leaned up, looking down at Derek. He reached a tired hand up, brushing a stray hair from Derek’s forehead. “I can’t believe I’m this close to you,” he barely uttered as he looked down at Derek’s legs. He curled his fins up away from the water, comparing his tail to Derek’s legs as they lay side by side. “We really aren’t that different,” he commented. He looked down at his arm, then at Derek’s. He poked one of Derek’s fingers, smiling to himself when Derek’s fingers moved in reaction. “Not that different,” he whispered to himself.

Derek started to stir, releasing a faint groan of pain as everything started to hurt at once. He heard the distant sound of people calling his name, knowing he either died and was about to be greeted by dead relatives, or he somehow managed to survive the explosion and the swim back to shore. He reached a hand up to block the sun from his eyes as he tried to take in his surroundings. He knew that he looked a terrible but amusing mess when he heard the faintest laugh.

“You’re awake,” Stiles stated as he looked down at Derek, his head moving to block the sun from Derek’s eyes. He smiled down at Derek, his heart beating fast as he struggled with a way to continue. He let Derek reach a hand for him, pressing his cheek into Derek’s outstretched palm.

It was an electrifying feeling, to have another’s touch.

Stiles reached his own hand out to touch Derek’s cheek, his fingers tracing along Derek’s beard.

“You’re real,” Derek uttered in fascination, his voice hoarse and weakened from the night’s events.

Stiles brightly smiled at Derek.

“Derek!” A distant voice called his name with worry.

Stiles looked up at the beach’s high rock formation, knowing the voices were coming from another human in search of Derek. He was surprised that Derek seemed uninterested, as if Stiles had become the sole object of Derek’s attention.

“Mieczysław!” A female voice called with harsh reprimand.

Stiles turned to look back into the water, catching sight of Lydia hiding behind one of the many rocks in the shallows.

Lydia hurriedly gestured for Stiles to come to her, knowing that they only had moments before another human discovered Stiles.

Stiles hesitated, knowing Lydia was right—he should have fled the moment he deposited Derek onto the sand. But he didn’t want to leave, not yet. He turned to look back at Derek. “I’m sorry,” he uttered, pulling himself from Derek’s reach, forcing himself back into the ocean.

Lydia clung to Stiles, holding him against her chest as she looked over his shoulder to watch the humans. She knew Stiles wouldn’t leave without watching—but she also didn’t trust Stiles not to swim right up to the human when he called for him.

“I’m not sorry,” Stiles defiantly stated as he continued to watch Peter speak with Derek. He watched in anticipation as Peter helped Derek to stand, nearly losing his hold on Derek as the prince stumbled. He couldn’t help his reaction, his tail kicking to move him forward to help—to bring himself closer to Derek.

Lydia tightened her hold on Stiles, her own tail counter kicking the momentum to keep them hidden among the rocks. “Your father would be furious.”

“He’s always furious,” Stiles dismissed.

“He’d drown that boy the next time he steps a toe in the ocean,” Lydia reprimanded. “He’d cause storm after storm if it meant it would keep humans away from us.”

“You’re angry at me for saving a human’s life, yet you fantasize about your own life outside of these waters,” Stiles finally bit back, turning in the water to face Lydia. “He’s not a cruel man.”

“He doesn’t have to look like one to be one,” Lydia snapped. “Do you think the men that killed your mother seemed unkind? No, not at first. They are never _unkind_ at first.”

Stiles looked down at Lydia’s tail, his eyes looking at the scarred tissue where her fin once was. It had been an ornate fin—beautiful and alluring in everyway. It looked almost too perfect to dare thinking of touching.

Lydia was older than Stiles, but she was still just considered a podling when it happened. She had been swimming closer to the surface than usual, losing herself in thought as she aimlessly swam. Her shrieks were heard from even within the deepest parts of the palace. Stiles’ father found her marred body, sinking away from the surface and the blood staining it. A cloud of blood followed after Lydia, the coppery smell had made Stiles ill when his father swam passed him in a hurry with Lydia in his arms. He had clutched to his mother, hiding his face away from the sight.

For a long time, Lydia had been silent about her ordeal. She didn’t leave the palace, and she didn’t speak to anyone. She just stared at where her fin once was, pretending that she couldn’t hear the others talking about her inability to swim ever again.

Stiles was the one that offered her a makeshift fin. He had spent countless hours working on it after discovering that humans had attacked Lydia to steal her fin—believing it to have a high value back in their own market. Stiles later had heard rumor that the humans had never reached land before his father’s storms hit, that they were swallowed down and crushed in the depths of the ocean for their cruelty and greed.

Lydia was reluctant to take Stiles’ offered invention, unwilling to fail once she had the hope that she’d swim with such ease again. She allowed Stiles to help her with small exercises, faintly smiling at Stiles’ playful ineptitude. She learned, in time, how to swim with the fan like contraption, almost able to move as well as she had before the incident.

“He’s not like that,” Stiles snapped. “He’s kind. I’ve seen the way he is with others. He makes them laugh and smile. He’s kind to his pet.”

“You’ve been coming up to the surface to spy on him, haven’t you?” Lydia demanded to know.

“So what if I have?” Stiles defiantly challenged.

“Stiles, if your father knew—”

“I don’t care anymore,” Stiles yelled, pushing away from Lydia’s hold. “I want to be on land, I thought you’d understand that more than anyone.”

Lydia looked taken aback. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“I see the way you look at the figurines, in the grotto. How you stare at the feet of the ballerina in that painting,” Stiles huffed, wanting to scream at the world that it wasn’t fair. He wanted more—they both wanted so much more than what they had been forced into. “I know you think about going to the Sea Witch. I know you do.”

“Did,” Lydia harshly corrected him. She shook her head.

“What?”

“I _did_ go to the Sea Witch.”

“When?” Stiles asked in disbelief.

“Moons ago,” Lydia half shrugged, as if the time had not been eating away at her.

“What happened?”

“She doesn’t want anything I have to give,” Lydia replied. “She told me I needed something unique—something she needed but didn’t already have. So she wouldn’t help me until I got that thing.”

“What was it?” Stiles asked as he moved closer to Lydia. “What did you ask her for?”

“I asked to be made human,” Lydia coldly replied. “But she told me to keep wishing on stars, that I was more likely to get my wish that way, than to find what she wanted.”

“I thought she was always in for a deal?” Stiles quizzically asked.

“Just not with an invalid merperson,” Lydia bitterly replied.

“Lydia,” Stiles softly uttered her name, reaching for her.

“I won’t tell your father about this, if you won’t tell him about me going to see the Sea Witch,” Lydia forcefully stated, floating out of Stiles’ reach.

“Lydia,” Stiles almost whined, wanting nothing more than to hold her close—to tell her that they weren’t foolish for wanting more.

“Leave it alone, Stiles,” Lydia harshly stated before diving under the water.

Stiles sighed, forcing himself to follow after her.

~*~

“Stiles?” Lydia’s voice pulled Stiles from his memories.

Stiles looked behind him, catching sight of Lydia walking around the bend of the beach.

Lydia was turning her head back and forth in search of Stiles. A smile graced her features when her eyes landed on him. She joyfully hurried her steps, her toes gripping at the sand as she pushed to move faster against the giving ground. “I’ve been looking for you!” She stated with a laugh as she climbed up onto the rock to sit beside Stiles.

Stiles smiled at her, offering his hand to help her reach him. He welcomed her hug once she was sitting beside him, curious about what news she had.

“I have something exciting to tell you,” Lydia smiled with joy, her expression faltering for a moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask you how your meeting with Derek went,” she uttered.

Stiles shook his head, gesturing for her not worry about it, desperate for her to speak.

Lydia smiled. “Cora asked to marry me,” she joyfully stated. “We’d live here, in the palace—on land.” She released a laugh. “I won’t have to go back. I won’t have that fin again. I can keep my legs!” She joyfully reached down to her feet, her fingers touching her wiggling toes in excitement.

Stiles smiled as he watched her.

“I’m so happy,” Lydia faintly uttered as she moved to wrap her arms around Stiles. “It’s all thanks to you, Stiles. And now, we can go to the Sea Witch and ask for your voice back. I asked Cora for a jewel, something to send home as a gift.” She pulled back to look at Stiles. “She gave me a diadem. It’s so lovely, Stiles, I’m sure the Sea Witch will take it in exchange.”

Stiles only offered Lydia a small smile in return. He admired her, knowing that she still wanted to help him, despite the fact that he lied about the terms of his agreement with the Sea Witch. He didn’t want Lydia to know that he was going to belong in the Sea Witch’s Garden of Lost Souls. It scared him too much to tell her.

Lydia’s own smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles shook his head.

“Stiles, what happened?” Lydia pressed, knowing it was something.

Stiles shook his head once more, knowing he couldn’t convey what had happened to Lydia, not without her feeling guilty over his lost love. He gestured towards the water, hoping she would understand his outstretched arm as a longing to return home.

“You want to go home?” Lydia sorrowfully asked.

Stiles nodded.

“But what about Derek?” Lydia quickly asked. “I thought you both were bonding— I thought—”

Stiles shook his head.

“Tonight,” Lydia started. “I’ll speak with Derek tonight to see how he feels.”

Stiles sighed, wishing Lydia didn’t have as much determination as she did, knowing that she would not let it go.

As fate would have it, Derek wasn’t at dinner that evening, having retired to his rooms for the night.

Stiles pretended to be concerned only a little bit, as if he didn’t know that his presence was the reason for Derek’s absence. He also pretended to not see the way Peter was watching him all night, as if he knew something happened between the two boys.

~*~

“Careful you don’t get lost at sea again,” Peter called out to Derek as he walked over to him.

Derek ignored Peter as he threw the rock he had in his hand, watching it skid before hitting the incoming wave.

“You’ve gotten better,” Peter commented as he moved to stand beside Derek.

“What do you want, Peter?” Derek asked, turning to look at his uncle.

Peter ignored Derek’s question, moving to inspect some of the small rocks by their spot on the beach. “I never pretended to understand you or your sisters,” he started as he picked through the various rocks, inspecting them for their quality. “But I think I can see a broken heart when it’s right in front of me.”

Derek turned away from Peter.

“Do you love him?”

“I’m not having this conversation,” Derek angrily snapped, moving to turn away from Peter.

“Fine, you don’t have to answer that,” Peter replied, flicking some of the rocks to his side as he continued to sift through them. “There are often too many rocks to tell which one will work the best,” he mused, the faint laugh in his voice caused Derek to stop walking away. “Some are too large, others are too flat,” he commented. “But then you find the perfect one, and it’s often times just plopped into our laps.” He smiled as he stood up, having found a perfect rock. He turned to look at Derek, taking a step towards his nephew. He offered out the rock in his hand.

Derek reached a hand out, gently taking the rock out of Peter’s hand.

Peter faintly smiled before looking at Derek. “The hard part is deciding whether to give it up, or to keep it.” He looked out at the water, eyes scanning the horizon. “You’re the one that has to decide whether to throw it away or not. And once it’s gone, it’s gone.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re telling me to go against what my parents want.”

Peter looked at Derek.

Derek looked at Peter when a silence fell over them.

“I’m just telling you about rocks, Derek,” Peter plainly answered, turning to take his leave of him. “But now that you mention it, there is a lovely young man sitting right in front of you, who cares deeply for you. And you’d be an idiot to cast him aside because of propriety.”

Derek ran his fingertips over the smooth edges of the rock in his hand. He hated how Peter’s words hit every part of his doubt, making him wish he was less of a coward. He wished he could tell Stiles the truth. He turned to look at the water, taking in a deep breath as he drew his hand back to skid the rock as far as it could go across the lapping waves. He halted when his thoughts drifted to Stiles, realizing that he couldn’t do it.

Derek loved Stiles. And for once in his life, he didn’t want to be the dutiful prince his parents expected him to be. He placed the rock in his pocket, turning to start walking back to the palace, filled with intentions to beg Stiles for his forgiveness for the cruel lies he spewed at him the other day.

An echoing song called out from the water. It was an enchanting voice, one that sparked familiarity for Derek.

Derek paused his steps, turning his head to look out at the water. He saw a figure floating among the waves, a fog in the cloudy day making it hard to completely see the figure. He squinted in an attempt to see who it was.

The shadowy figure looked familiar, an outline of the figure that had leaned over Derek on the beach as he regained consciousness weeks ago. The person easily gathered themselves out of the water, tall and proud as they began to wade out of the waves.

“Mischief?” Derek softly asked in disbelief, unsure how to say the foreign name with the ease of pronunciation that the other voice had.

The laugh that answered was light and amused, yet something darker and unnatural to the voice.

An unsteady feeling rose in Derek’s chest, as if he was in danger. He tried to pull away, only to have the glowing light of the shell necklace blind him.

~*~

Stiles yawned as he turned in his bed, stretching some as he tried to think about what today would bring. He knew it was one of the last days he had before the Sea Witch would claim her price. He wished he could spend it with his father.

“Stiles!” Cora excitedly called, rushing into the room with Lydia on her heels. “I’m so happy,” she stated with a smile as she practically jumped into the bed with Stiles.

Stiles’ eyes widened as he stared at Cora, his gaze moving to Lydia. He hoped the confusion on his face was enough for Lydia to take pity on him.

“Derek!” Cora blurted out. “Derek’s made an announcement!”

Stiles felt as if something was twisting in his stomach, his chest burning as he tried to focus on something else. He shook his head.

“Derek’s making an announcement about his intent to marry,” Lydia explained with a smile.

Stiles looked from Lydia to Cora, trying to understand what both women were implying.

“To a foreigner—he told our parents it’s someone new to our lands, who has recently captured his heart,” Cora explained with a giddy smile.

Stiles allowed a small smile to cross his lips, looking to Lydia in hopes that she’d confirm it.

Lydia happily nodded. “He’s asked for a party to be held, so that we can both announce our marriages.”

Stiles felt weightless, as if he was floating on air. He smiled when Cora hugged him tightly, practically pulling him off the bed as she pulled him close.

~*~

Stiles straightened his jacket as he paused before the door to the council room. He drew in a steady breath, wondering what could have possibly changed Derek’s mind since yesterday.

“You spineless coward,” Lydia’s voice sharply snapped on the other side of the door.

“Princess,” Peter’s calm voice addressed Lydia. “My nephew undoubtedly has his reasons.” There was the hint of a slight pinch in his tone, as if he didn’t want to be rationalizing said behavior.

“Reasons or not, this is an insult,” Lydia pushed.

“Everyone, please calm down,” Talia’s rational voice declared. “Now, Derek,” she sternly started. “How about you explain the situation.”

“I don’t understand the need for me to explain the obvious,” Derek blandly answered his mother.

Stiles was surprised when the guards stopped him from entering. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he silently gestured to the room and himself.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the guard addressed Stiles with a cold tone, his gaze ignoring Stiles completely. “But the royal family isn’t to be disturbed at the moment.”

Stiles tried to argue, hating how his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He released a heavy sigh, shaking his head. Why would Cora tell him to come downstairs and meet with them if he wasn’t allowed in?

“I’m intending to marry for love,” Derek stated.

Stiles heart beat faster, wondering if Derek had read the half written note he had dropped in the garden. He physically pushed forward, thinking there must be a mistake on the guards’ behalf.

“Stop,” the guard firmly stated, roughly shoving Stiles backwards.

Stiles’ face scrunched in annoyance. He turned on his heel, making a scene to display that he was walking away. He quickly spun, using his momentum to run full speed at the door. He dashed under the guard’s arm when he tried to grab him, slamming his own body into the door. He fell in a heap onto the floor on the other side of the door.

“What are you doing? Let him go,” Talia demanded when the guards roughly grabbed ahold of Stiles.

“We told him you were not to be disturbed, your Majesty,” the guard explained, not releasing his hold on Stiles. “But he wouldn’t listen.”

“I said release him,” Talia firmly stated, not caring for the guards’ excuses.

Stiles took a stumbling step away from the guards, glaring at both men as he pretended that he didn’t feel a pride at outwitting them. He turned to look at Derek, wondering what the argument was about. His stomach twisted when he saw Derek standing with some woman attached to his arm.

The young woman stared at Stiles in a disinterested way, tightening her hold on Derek’s arm as if to demonstrate that she was allowed such intimacies. Her hair was a long auburn, similar in length to how Stiles’ hair had been years ago—before he caught it on a fisherman’s snare. The woman’s eyes were large and a deep chestnut, the glow mimicking that of a baiting hook meant to attract prey. She pursed her lips when she realized that Stiles was staring at her. She slipped her hand into Derek’s, entwining their fingers. She pulled Derek’s attention to her, giving him a small smile, as if she knew it would make Derek smile back at her.

Cora’s expression twisted. She never saw Derek react to someone like that—not this quickly and out of the blue. She turned to look at Stiles.

Stiles’ hands tightened into fists as he tried to stop his trembling. His lungs were burning again, his legs aching as if the wounds were opening up again.

“Derek,” Peter snapped when he noticed that the young woman was leaning in to kiss Derek.

Derek pulled away, his attention moving to focus on Peter.

“I think you haven’t introduced your companion properly,” Peter pressed.

“I told you someone saved me,” Derek explained to Peter.

“You mean,” Samuel paused as he looked at Talia. “You said a young man saved you, Derek. Before vanishing back into the sea,” he explained, looking at the woman beside Derek.

“I was delirious,” Derek replied. “I didn’t allow myself to think that a woman could possibly carry my weight to shore.”

“She’s lying,” Lydia angrily snapped.

The young woman looked taken aback by Lydia’s statement. “Why would I lie about something like that?” She asked, a superficially wounded expression taking over her features. “I was afraid to come forward because of treatment like this.”

Derek’s glare intensified as he looked at Lydia. “You don’t know anything about this. You weren’t there.”

Lydia surged forward, ready to get in Derek’s face if she had to. She was only stopped when Stiles grabbed her arm. She looked back at Stiles.

Stiles shook his head, wishing he could vocally plead with her.

“Stiles,” Lydia started.

Stiles shook his head furiously, closing his eyes against the tears. He let go of Lydia, turning and fleeing the room.

The young woman turned her head to look after Stiles, the faintest smirk pulled at her lips as she leaned her head against Derek’s chest. She placed her hand over Derek’s heart, feeling smug that she managed to outwit the Sea King’s foolish child. She knew she’d have her prize when the sun set this day.

~*~

Stiles kept to himself as he hid among the crowd watching as the ceremony was prepared. He had cried himself into a near panic attack since the confrontation. He pretended to be okay when Lydia checked on him, pulling him with her to the boat where Jennifer and Derek planned to celebrate their engagement.

Stiles fiddled with the handkerchief in his hands. He stared down at the embroidered threat in the corner of the fabric. His nails dug at the initials in blue, fingertips nearly tracing the letters. He remembered when Derek gave it to him, a small token for Stiles to keep. He thought there was some form of tenderness in that action—maybe even adoration.

Stiles looked up when he heard Jennifer laughing from among the crowd of gathered lords and ladies. It just served to dig Derek’s harsh words deeper—Stiles could never laugh like that; he could never speak such loving words to make Derek understand how he truly felt. He gave up his voice for a chance to be close to Derek, and in the end, the loss of his voice drove the wedge between them even further.

Derek stood silently by Jennifer’s side, his expression solemn—not as if he was about to marry someone he loved. He knew he had smiled more in his time spent with Stiles. He couldn’t place the hollowness he felt in his chest, as if his heart was breaking with loss. He knew he should have felt happy, but every time Jennifer pressed a hand to his chest, or a kiss to his cheek, he couldn’t help but think of another.

Derek turned to scan the crowd for Stiles. He stared at the foreign prince, knowing he was being obvious in the way he let his gaze linger. He noted how sad Stiles looked, as if he too had experienced happier days.

Stiles looked up to find Derek staring at him. His lips parted before clamping shut, as if he was about to speak before recalling that he couldn’t. He turned on his heel, rushing away from sight as a deep embarrassed blush burned his cheeks.

Stiles leaned against the railing of the ship, staring down at the ocean below. He should never had left his father behind, knowing that he was meddling with things beyond his control when he sought out the sea witch. He had only hours left before the moon was high in the sky, his fairy tale ending crashing and burning. He’d never see his father or Lydia again, and Derek wouldn’t have to stomach seeing him trailing behind him.

“What did you do?” Lydia’s voice questioned.

Stiles looked over his shoulder to Lydia.

“You gave her your voice,” Lydia pressed, taking a step towards him. “But you’re acting like you’re bound to go back.” Her gaze looked to the water lapping at the side of the ship. “Were you always planning on going back?”

Stiles reached his hands out to Lydia, shaking his head when she looked at him.

“Then what’s happening?” Lydia urged Stiles to answer her.

Stiles frowned, tears burning his eyes. He reached a hand up, fingertips touching his bared neck. He could feel his gills pulling at his skin. He had tied bandages around his feet when they started to bleed earlier. His human body was failing him, just like the sea witch must have planned.

“You’re … you’re turning back?” Lydia nearly gasped in dismay.

Stiles nodded.

“You’re scaring me,” Lydia softly uttered. “What did you promise her, Mieczysław?”

Stiles’ frown deepened. He looked back at where the crowd was when he heard Jennifer laughing once more. He sorrowfully looked away.

Lydia looked at where Stiles had. “Does this have to do with Derek?”

Stiles closed his eyes in shame.

“Did she say you had to be with Derek? That you’d have legs, unless you found love?” Lydia quickly asked. “What was it? Was it true love’s kiss?”

Stiles wanted to shout at her. It didn’t matter—Derek didn’t want him!

“Stiles, we—”

Stiles tore himself away from her grasp, stumbling some as he tried to keep his balance.

“Careful,” Peter chastised as he kept Stiles from toppling down to the ship’s deck.

Stiles clawed at Peter’s shoulders to try and keep from falling. He was as uncoordinated as the day he traded his fins.

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, your highnesses,” Peter commented as he helped Stiles stand to his full height.

“Lord Hale,” Lydia started, biting down on her lip as she thought about what to say.

“Well, if you’re not going to have legs after tonight, it’d be a shame to waste the time on not using them,” Peter commented as he turned his attention towards Stiles. He offered his arm to Stiles. “Might as well dance, shall we?”

Lydia’s brow crinkled in confusion at Peter’s light-hearted gesture. She was certain he would press to know the truth.

“Everyone loves a well timed dance,” Peter continued. “They say it shows how well a pair can fair.” He looked back at the crowd, towards Derek. His gaze moved to Lydia. “Don’t you think?”

Lydia looked from Peter to Derek, trying to process what he could possibly be cryptically telling her. She heard the music, as if it was a cue for everything to fall into place. “Would be rude to refuse,” she uttered, pushing Stiles towards Peter.

Stiles stumbled, reluctantly falling against Peter’s chest. He offered an apologetic smile, taking Peter’s hand in order to acquiesce to his dance request. He tried to hide the pain from his face, a sharp pain searing up his legs with every step he took. He caught sight of Lydia speaking with Derek, watching as Derek departed from Jennifer’s side for the first time. He looked at Jennifer, seeing how Cora distracted her with wild gestures and hurried movements to keep the young woman’s attention.

Stiles tried to keep up with Peter’s steps, frowning when the pain grew with every passing moment. It was a constant reminder that his time as a human was coming to an end—Stiles was going to be made a part of the Sea Witch’s collection, and that scared him less than the heartbreak he felt.

Stiles wondered if it would have been enough to still have his voice. He was afraid that Derek would even find fault with him then—he rambled incessantly, and laughed far too loud for some of his fellow merpeople. He had a sinking feeling in his gut that he wasn’t good enough to have his loved returned. But he couldn’t blame Derek—he would never blame Derek.

“I apologize for this,” Peter stated as he spun them on a step.

Stiles looked up a Peter, arching an eyebrow in question.

“I’m doing it to help you both,” Peter explained. He suddenly let go of Stiles, moving the young prince into a spin he couldn’t control.

Stiles stumbled, falling off balance as he collided with someone.

“Careful,” a concerned voice uttered as arms steadied Stiles.

Stiles looked up from his near collapsed spot. He blinked up at Derek, not bothering to try and say anything. He tried to get up, ashamed that he had practically flung himself into Derek’s space.

“I see you’ve taken my dance partner,” Peter commented with a smile.

Stiles turned to see that Lydia had taken Peter’s hand, replacing him as Peter’s dance partner.

Derek took Stiles’ hand, a wordless question that asked if Stiles wanted to continue the dance.

Stiles offered a shy smile, taking Derek’s hand to dance with him. He felt sorrowful as they moved into a dance reminiscent of their time spent in town—when he thought Derek felt _something_.

“I apologize for the way the guards treated you the other day,” Derek offered. “It wasn’t kind of them to touch you that way.”

Stiles shrugged his shoulders some.

“I forgot that you don’t speak,” Derek commented with realization. His eyes widened as if he realized how cruel his statement sounded. “I’m sorry, that’s not a negative thing. I just think it’s terrible that I don’t have a way to communicate with you.”

Stiles shook his head, a small smiling pulling at his lips.

“Could always have you write it down,” Derek commented, a perplexed look scrunching his eyebrows together. “That’s familiar …”

Stiles looked at Derek, concern laced his features.

“You dance with your heart,” Derek commented as their dance ended. “It’s a lovely thing to be a part of.”

Stiles frowned, looking away from Derek. His eyes fell on the outline of the moon coming into view now that the sun’s light was vanishing. His hands lowered from Derek’s arms, trying to pull himself away from the safety he felt there.

“Are you upset with me?” Derek asked, turning his head to the side as he observed Stiles.

Stiles shook his head, offering a sad smile.

Derek reached a hand out, his touch carefully tracing the sharp curve of Stiles’ jaw in remembrance. His smile grew, reaching his eyes as if he remembered happier times. “You liked when I read to you,” he softly uttered.

Stiles looked hopefully at Derek, nodding with a smile of his own.

“It feels like something far away—like another lifetime,” Derek explained. “I wanted to be with you, but …” He shook his head, a sharp pain growing behind his eye. “Stiles, I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

Stiles reached his hands out to hold Derek’s arms, an attempt to help stabilize him. He let Derek hold him closely, trying to remain stable for them both.

“Cora and Lydia are going to marry,” Derek continued, the sharp pain radiating again and again with every word. “That means that we couldn’t be anything— I lied to break your heart.”

Stiles frowned, not knowing why Derek was telling him all this—what it meant. He wondered what Derek’s relationship with Jennifer meant.

“Please, forgive me for that,” Derek pleaded. “I was going to … ask for forgiveness. But a voice … something stopped me.”

Stiles’ eyes looked over to Lydia, his gaze catching Jennifer standing and speaking with Cora. He stared at her, seeing the chain gracing her neck. He saw part of a seashell dangling from the chain—a seashell he remembered. It was the same seashell that the Sea Witch had used to seal his voice away in.

“I’m sorry,” Derek repeated. “I couldn’t get out of my mind a voice. I couldn’t stop thinking of … Mischief.” He shook his head in pain.

Stiles’ eyes widened. His fingers reached out to caress Derek’s cheek, lifting Derek’s gaze to meet his own. He hesitated from pressing a kiss to Derek’s soft lips, pulling away from him.

“Derek, get away from him,” Jennifer suddenly commanded when she realized that Derek was standing with Stiles.

Stiles startled at hearing Jennifer’s demand.

Peter grabbed Jennifer’s arm to stop her. “They’re having a conversation.”

Jennifer turned to walk away from Peter, determined to get out of his grip.

Lydia moved to stand in front of Jennifer.

Jennifer’s eyes narrowed at Lydia. A flash flickered across her eyes, mirroring the look of a fishing lore twisting in the water as it caught the light of the sun over the ocean’s horizon. “You prospered from his foolish deal, and now you stand in the way of the price being paid.”

Lydia’s eyes widened with fearful recognition. “The Sea Witch.”

Jennifer tore out of Peter’s grip, making her determined away over to Derek and Stiles. She was close to having Stiles as her prize, she wasn’t about to let that slip through her fingers.

Cora moved to block Jennifer’s path. “Leave my brother alone,” she firmly stated.

Lydia turned to look at Stiles and Derek. “Kiss him,” she urged Derek.

Derek didn’t look away from Stiles, his gaze dropping to Stiles’ lips. He opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, not knowing the right words to speak. His mind felt clear, as if he was seeing the truth for the first time. He still felt drawn tight, as if he was still being controlled, but this time by his own wants and desires.

Stiles offered a fair smile, a small nod of his head tried to show his acceptance of such an act.

Derek pressed a delicate kiss to Stiles’ lips, a chaste one that begged to know it was welcomed.

Stiles was paralyzed with fear that he was imagining the feeling of Derek’s lips against his own. He pushed in against Derek, wanting to experience more. A warmth rushed his body, a heat burning his throat as the skin warmed up and the muscles ignited with the fire of something more.

Stiles pulled back as a sharp breath expanded through his lungs, the pain disappearing as a coughing fit overtook him. He was gasping for breath, as he once did when remaining out of water for too long.

“Stiles?” Derek questioned. There was a softness in his voice, as if he had just awoken from a dream.

Stiles looked up at Derek, his hand touching his throat as he massaged the muscles, coaxing the pain away. “Derek.” His eyes widened when he realized he spoke.

“Mieczysław,” Lydia uttered his name in shock.

Derek stared at both Lydia and Stiles, his expression softening some. “Mi … Mischief?” He softly asked.

“Derek!” Jennifer started, cutting herself off when she realized there was a change in her voice. She reached a hand up to her throat in near horror—she no longer had Stiles’ voice lacing her own. Her spell no longer had an effect on Derek.

Stiles released a soft laugh, unable to believe that he was speaking again.

“No!” Jennifer’s hoarse voice yelled, shattering the calm of the moment. “We had a deal, little prince!”

Stiles looked at Jennifer, taking a step away from Derek.

Derek looked from Stiles to Jennifer, catching the way her eyes flashed with a strange light. It was the same light he had seen the night on the beach—the night he forgot everything. He turned his body to block Stiles from Jennifer.

“You wanted me because of my father,” Stiles angrily stated. “You lied to me— you tried to trick me. You meddled by trying to put a wedge between me and Derek.”

“I never said what I was or was not allowed to do,” Jennifer hissed.

“Derek loves him,” Lydia argued with passion. “That’s why he got his voice back— you said he would belong to you if he couldn’t find a kiss of true love. But Derek loves him. Before Stiles even came to you, they were drawn to each other.”

A storm crackled over the water, an anger brewing in the air.

Stiles turned his head to look at the oncoming storm. “And now my father knows what you’ve done.” He turned to look at Jennifer, glaring at her as he came to stand beside Derek rather than behind him.

Jennifer laughed as she moved to the edge of the ship, her movements fluid and billowing like smoke. “You believe you’ve found a love you could have,” she cackled with glee. “You forget, he’s the one that broke your heart before I could even get to him.”

And in a flash of lightning, the Sea Witch evaporated into stirring shadows.

~*~

Derek silently remained settled on the rock by the small beach where he often caught glimpses of Stiles. He was happy enough to leave the party once the wedding was settled. He had hoped Stiles would have been present for the occasion, knowing that Lydia would have appreciated it. He, however, had more selfish reasons.

It had been more than a month since anyone had seen Stiles.

Stiles had gone back to the ocean, disappearing into the water after he gave his parting goodbyes. He offered the small reassurance that he would return to them after speaking with his father.

Derek felt selfish in wanting Stiles to admit the truth—that Stiles was the royal one, not Lydia. But he couldn’t deny that he was happy at seeing Cora and Lydia together.

Derek settled into a comfortable position as he lifted the flute to his lips. He played the notes he had perfected the numerous times he walked the beach’s shorelines. He hoped it would bring Stiles back—a soft melody that would lead the merman back to him. He flinched when water hit his arm and chest, pausing his playing as he opened his eyes to look at the water. A soft smile pulled at his lips when he saw Stiles floating in shallow water.

“Hi there, stupid,” Stiles fondly laughed when he splashed Derek again, his fin curling out of the water some as he nearly beached himself.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” Derek honestly answered as he dropped down from the rock. He put his feet into the water, looking down as his toes squished through the sand.

“I told you I’d come back,” Stiles replied. “I didn’t want to come and find you moping,” he added as he flipped his body, using his upper strength to sit on the beach and out of the water.

Derek moved to sit down beside Stiles. “I’m allowed to mope,” he offered. “I found true love, according to a Sea Witch’s spell, only to know that I can never have it.”

Stiles looked at Derek.

Derek lifted his legs to his chest, resting his chin on his knees as he looked out at the lapping waves.

Stiles frowned. “We don’t have to never act on this,” he replied.

“Stiles, what I told you that day in the maze,” Derek started with a heavy sigh. “I meant it. I’m the last Hale, and I’m expected to marry a princess from across the sea.”

Stiles looked down at the beach, his fingers tracing shapes into the damp sand. “Your parents seemed to be nice enough not to force something like that.”

Derek turned his face away from Stiles, resting his cheek onto his knees. He didn’t want Stiles to see the tears burning his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. It’s for the good of the kingdom, which means it will happen.”

“I don’t—”

“There you both are,” Peter’s voice interrupted them.

Stiles looked at Peter, a small frown pulling at his lips as he looked back at Derek. He hadn’t been shocked at the Hales accepting his true form, but was grateful at their loyalty in keeping his secret. He was still amused by the questions Cora liked to ask, finding it exciting to explain his culture and altered form.

“I wanted to tell you the joyous news,” Peter stated with a smile.

“What do you want Peter?” Derek asked in a bored tone.

“I wanted to inform you that a marriage is to happen,” Peter simply replied as he leaned against the rock Derek had previously been sitting on.

Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed. “I thought I missed the wedding,” he stated.

“Oh, not Lydia’s,” Peter replied with a wave of his hand. “The Hale and Argents have come to an agreement on the marriage proposal.”

Derek’s head immediately whipped to the side, staring at his uncle. “What?”

Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand, his fingers tightly squeezing, hoping it helped to remind Derek that he wasn’t alone.

Derek tried to fight the fear and pain away. “Mom and dad didn’t—”

“I asked to be the one to tell you about it,” Peter simply explained.

Derek shook his head.

“You look distraught,” Peter simply put.

“Of course I am,” Derek angrily snapped at his uncle. “You come down here, while I’m with Stiles, to tell me that I’m being shipped off to marry someone I barely know!”

Peter observed Derek with a bemused look. “Finished your lamentation?”

“Peter,” Stiles pressed in warning. “You’re being cruel.”

“Is it very cruel to announce my marriage to an Argent?” Peter questioned.

Derek’s anger expression fell. He stared at Peter in confusion. “What?”

Peter shrugged. “Apparently there are benefits to marrying the societal pariah when he is the Queen’s brother.”

“You’re going to marry the foreign princess?” Stiles hopefully asked.

Peter made a displeased face. “For once, I agree with the rumors: she’s young enough to be my daughter. Her father on the other hand …” He smiled to himself as his thumb traced along the curve of his bottom lip. He recalled the moments he shared with Chris when they were too young to understand the way the Court worked—too naïve and hopeful. He was happy to find that Chris hadn’t changed when he was crowned King. “Well, that’s another story.”

“You’re going to be the King’s Consort?” Derek asked in disbelief.

“There are worse things to be than the King’s Consort, Derek,” Peter stated with a smile. “Besides, my nieces and nephew get to have their happily-ever-afters.”

Stiles frowned. “But do you?”

Peter looked at Stiles. “For once, I do.” He moved from his spot against the rock, taking a step towards to place his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Today is a day of celebration.” He waited for Derek to look at him before adding, “Embrace it while you can.”

Derek watched his uncle leave them behind, seeing ease in Peter’s steps. He turned to look at Stiles, releasing a heavy breath that exhaled as a soft but hopeful laugh.

“You’re not going to leave now,” Stiles stated in happy amazement, a smile pulling at his lips.

Derek shook his head. “I can … I can do anything now.” He reached a hand up to touch Stiles’ face. “I could leave with you, if we want.”

“Or I could stay with you,” Stiles answered, cupping his hand over Derek’s as his face pressed into Derek’s touch.

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed. “You gave up your legs already,” he stated.

Stiles smiled. “I was gone so long because of research,” he explained. “My father helped me—he realized how much I want this … _us_.” He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Derek’s lips. “I can change between human form and mer form with ease now.”

“What magic are you using now?” Derek hesitantly asked. He wanted to believe that they could have this—that he could be with Stiles.

“My own,” Stiles answered with a confident smile. He reached his hands down to his fins, closing his eyes as he concentrated on the words, envisioning his tail morphing into the legs he once had. He slowly trailed his hands along the scales of his tail, willing them to morph into the soft human flesh he had more than a month ago.

The pain was always there, but it had a thrilling edge to it, one that told Stiles he was about to have legs once more. And he was about to have those legs on his own terms.

When Stiles opened his eyes, he saw his toes wiggling against the sand, smiling to himself as he released a laugh. He turned to Derek, practically lunging himself into Derek out of excitement. “I told you! I have legs once more!”

Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles, still shocked at such a revelation. “And naked once more,” he mumbled against Stiles’ shoulder, his cheeks burning.

“I guess I can’t go to Lydia’s wedding celebration like this,” Stiles thoughtfully stated as he pulled back.

“You can borrow some of my clothes,” Derek answered with a small laugh, coughing to clear his throat of the giddy tickle he felt there.

“I may be needing my own eventually,” Stiles stated as he watched Derek stand. He observed the way Derek easily discarded his long overcoat. He smiled when Derek held it out for him to stand up into, offering him a small amount of privacy. He stood with little difficulty, slipping his arms into the overcoat. He held the flaps of the coat closed, turning to look at Derek.

Derek held his hand out for Stiles to take.

Stiles gladly took the offering, wrapping Derek’s arm in his embrace as he walked beside his prince. “One day,” he started as he looked up at the castle they were walking towards. “I’d like to bring you to meet my father.”

Derek looked at Stiles, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ temple, his beard brushing against Stiles’ still wet hair. “I’d like that.”

“You’d give up your home for me?” Stiles playfully asked.

“You gave up your voice for me,” Derek plainly answered. “You gave up your tail for me,” he added. “I think giving up land wouldn’t be so hard to do.”

“I knew you were different,” Stiles softly stated as he rested his head against Derek’s shoulder.

Some times a simple bond spoke louder than words ever could.


End file.
